


Memory Banks

by ParaducksSpace



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dissociation, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone's A Synth, Flashbacks, M/M, Memories, Memory Alteration, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn, Synth!Deacon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-02-01 17:59:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12710052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ParaducksSpace/pseuds/ParaducksSpace
Summary: “Danse. I need you to take Deacon to the Memory Den because I can’t. Now before you say anything-"“Sure.”“What?” Whisper stops, hands mid gesture as she looks up into Danse’s eyes.“I’ll go. You need me to, so I will.”When lost memories start coming back in waves, people tend to learn a lot about themselves





	1. Old World Cartoon

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! This is the beginning to a new fic I've been writing! It's being split up into chapters because it was getting a touch long for my liking and I just wanted to get it out into the world!  
> Thanks for stopping by!

The metal creaked beneath his feet as Deacon walked across the metal planks that sufficed for walkways in this town, raising a hand to shade his eyes from the bright midday sun. Being so high on the scaffolding would have made him uneasy if he felt deeper emotions, but he had a job to do and he was here to do it. A few more quick steps and he found himself at an old bar, rusted and shoddy. Exactly the place he knew he needed to be. He walked in to hear the sound of static coming from the radio and idle chit chat happening at the bar.

“Hello there stranger!” a voice called from behind the bar, accent grating slightly at both Deacon’s ears and nerves. “What can I do you for today?” Deacon glanced up at the man and stored all the info about him for later use. Salt and pepper hair, short goatee, slight but muscular build, slight bulge under the coat from a gun.

“I’m looking for a man.” Deacon said, slightly wincing at his own voice. It had been recently changed and he was not used to how deep it was now. The change was necessary for his trek this far from home, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

A voice from the man’s left chuckled, letting out a soft “aren’t we all.” Her deep red hair caught Deacon’s eyes and he made a quick note of her features. Lithe, no visible weapon, tall, would be easy to take out if necessary. Deacon ignored her interjection by training his eyes back on the salt and pepper haired man.

“He should be tall, muscular, afraid for his life.”

The man chuckled softly before leaning behind the bar, pulling up a dark bottle. “We’ve got a touch more of those than you’d be happy to hear about, boy.” The man takes a quick sip from the bottle before continuing. “How’s about you give me more details and a few caps before I tell you anything else?”

Deacon quickly looked the man in the eyes, taking in his posture and intent, reading him. His eyes quickly moved around the room, grazing over and taking in the features of both a hunched over and scared looking ghoul and a heavily armed man in the corner pretending not to be listening.

“No thanks.” Deacon ran the calculations and probabilities in his head. “I think I’ve got all the information I need.”

The salt and pepper haired man clicked his tongue against his teeth, expecting the newcomer to change his mind, but instead, Deacon turned and headed back out the door.

 _Always easier to talk to the lowlifes than the lowlifes that think they’re not._ He thought to himself, looking back up at the bright midday sky. He began his walk back down the steel balconies until the sun poured through between a space in two beams, streaking directly into his eyes. He quickly turned his head and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, letting the leather of his coat brush against his face. _Better stop somewhere and get some protection. The sun out here on the surface is killer._ He looked back up at the offending beams as the light shone back over his face.

 

Deacon takes a deep gasp of air as he opens his eyes again, light streaming in from a crack in the roof of his room, grasping slightly at the empty bed beside him. He presses his palms into his eyes, trying to push the pain of the bright sunlight on his uncovered eyes away as well as trying to push away thoughts that has just flooded his mind in quick succession. He blindly reaches for his shades on his bedside desk, slipping them onto his face comfortably and turning his head until he no longer could see the red behind his eyelids. He takes another breath, this one slightly more ragged but more awake, before opening his eyes.

His room was exactly how he had left it the night before. Almost empty except for the bed and small desk. His favorite gun resting atop the desk exactly where he had left it. His shoes sat at the edge of his bed exactly where he had left them. He let out a deep sigh and dug his fingernails into his palms, letting the sensation ground him. He lets the slight pain bite into his hands, but as soon as he closes his eyes again, he sees the slight flash of bleak skies, rolling hills, and nothing but dead trees for miles. The air was warm and stale, the taste of dust and radiation on his lips was thick and grating. He slipped the new pair of sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose, looking up at the bright sun and sighing. He reached into his pocket to pull out a picture of his query, the material thick and grainy in the stirring dust storm.

 

He openes his eyes again with a shudder, swallowing his thoughts as he quickly gathered his things and slipped on his shoes. He straps his gun on his back and opens the door to the rest of Sanctuary, surprised to see that it was still early morning. The only other person Deacon could see from this point was Sturges, kneeling on top of the house across from him, laying down slats of wood, turned the other way, so Deacon can quickly slip past him and down the road.

He quickly makes his way across the bridge and down the old, beaten up road to the old Red Rocket, serving as an outpost for the Railroad operations in this corner of the commonwealth. Deacon quickly slips his head in the front door to see the Caretaker eating a bowl of sugar bombs, tapping a pencil rhythmically on the table with his free hand. Caretaker looks up as Deacon approaches, wiping the side of his mouth with his sleeve before quickly standing at attention.

“Deacon! I didn’t know you were stopping by! If I would have known I would have fixed the place up a bit!” He quickly pats at his coat, pulling out a cloth and begins wiping down the table he was sitting at. “I’m so sorry sir! Are we expecting a package so soon? The last one only left a few days ago. Oh, god I’m going to have to prepare the room again! I’m so sorry and I’ll get to that immediately sir!”

“It’s alright dude, slow your roll. I’m just here to ask a favor.” Deacon leans against the door frame, looking at Caretaker over his sunglasses, trying to force him to calm down with only his eyes.

“I’ll do anything for you sir!” Caretaker’s eyes light up as he listens, watching Deacon intently, dropping the rag back on the table, not noticing it land perfectly in his bowl of Sugar Bombs.

“I need you to get a message to Whisper as soon as you can. She should be heading back here soon and when she passes I need you to let her know I need to do something very important. I need you to tell her that the dreams have come back. Got it? That’s all you need to tell her. She’ll understand I promise.” Deacon pushes his sunglasses back up on the bridge of his nose, feeling his heart began to wrench and his emotions lock up.

Caretaker deflates slightly, but still nods enthusiastically. “Is that all you need sir? Just that you’re having some bad dreams?”

“Yeah. That’s all.” He lets out a long and ragged breath. “See you soon.” Deacon turns and leaves without looking back up into Caretaker’s eyes. He runs a hand over his scalp and lets out a long sigh, letting his feet slightly drag in the gravel as he exits the abandoned gas station.

The whole walk back Deacon counts his steps, letting his feet grind into the ground, feeling the rocks and gravel beneath his thin shoes.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

_I’m real. I’m real. I’m real._

_This is real. This is real._

He lets his fingernails bit into his palms but stiffens when he is unable to feel the pain. He lets out a shaky breath as he arrives back the house he calls his own. He kicks off his shoes and lets his socked feet feel the wood planks beneath him, trying to ground himself. As he sits down on the edge of his mattress, he stares at a spot in the wall. Deacon slowly begins emptying his mind of all thoughts about his dream and instead filling it with complicated math.

_Whisper and Codsworth went to the Slog three days ago and planned to stay for only one night. Codsworth can hover and thus by travel at a speed of 20 miles per hour, but would stay with Whisper who on average walks a cautious 2.1 miles per hour when not in a safe zone. Chance of an encounter with any enemy type would be higher than 90% per hour, gauging down to about 60% every half hour. Encounters would slow Whisper down by an hour and 15 minutes including time for bandaging wounds and looting. No imminent danger raises looting time up to 25 minutes, changing the total of encounter time to an hour and 20 minutes. Assuming Whisper encounters enemy groups 7 times on the trip to the Slog and 7 times on the way back from the Slog and that Caretaker stops her as she approaches and tells her what I asked, that means that Whisper would arrive back at Sanctuary at approximately 9:47 tonight._

Deacon blinks, the math calculating itself quickly in his head. By his internal mathematical scale, he has about 10 hours until Whisper will be back to take him somewhere to fix his problem. He raises a hand to his head, running it over his slightly stubbly scalp. He knows that he could absolutely take the trip down to Goodneighbor and do it himself, but the foreseen outcome of just up and leaving without telling Whisper is worse in his mind’s calculations than waiting an extra day or two to fix the issue with her knowledge and security.

Deacon begins shaking his hands and tapping his still socked feet tap against the floorboards with extra energy, deciding to get up and put it to good use. He slips his shoes back on and walks back outside, this time making his presence very obvious to the ever present, ever working, Sturges.

As soon as Deacon walks outside of his house and closes his door a little louder than normal, Sturges’ head turns and catches Deacon’s gaze, friendly but hawk-like.

“Hey there friend! Care to help out around town for a bit?” Sturges called down to Deacon, eyes still locked on, pushing for him to not say no.

“Sure, what do you need? I wasn’t doing anything and I probably won't be doing anything after.” he called back up.

“Wonderin’ if you could head over to Danse’ place and grab some tools I left by his armor.” Sturges smiled down at Deacon. “And do make sure you do it before he wakes up. Don't want him to know I've been tinkering.”

“Into the belly of the beast, then? Alright, if you say so.” Deacon gives Sturges a nod and a small salute before turning on his heel and walking across the small roundabout to Danse’ house. The grass has grown longer since he had last walked across it, the taller blades brushing against his ankles beneath his rolled up jean cuffs.  

The deep orange door to Danse’ house is foreboding and ominous, but the snores coming through the open window a few feet down puts Deacon at ease. He quietly pushes the door, testing it’s lock before pulling out his set of picks and unlocking it carefully. The room behind the door is plain and militaristic. A small banner for the Brotherhood still hangs on the opposite wall, but droops more than it had last time Deacon had seen it.

 _Now, where does a brute keep his armor?_ Deacon begins rapidly running thoughts through his head. _If he’s smart then it would probably be beside his bed, hell, he might even sleep in it. If it is by his bed though then Sturges wouldn't be working on it because a manly man’s room is an intimate place especially for a manly man like Danse. The next best place would be the living room but it isn’t right in front of me and I’m almost certain it isn't invisible. It might be located outside but that would leave it open to rust and theft, and I didn’t break into his house for it to just be outside because that’s ridiculous and would never happen. Optional point to bring up is that he actually might be wearing it. Fallen asleep standing up like a twisted Brahmin. Maybe he doesn't even sleep and the snores are just on a holotape and he’s going to ambush me like some sort of old world cartoon._

Deacon, crouched at the front door, thinking too hard about a scenario in which Danse was about to spring up behind him and finally end it all that he almost missed the sharp gasp for air as the snoring stopped.

The breathing from the room over grew ragged and almost sounded painful. Deacon stays crouched next to the door, trying to quietly slide his way over to position himself behind the couch when he hears the first sob. He immediately freezes up, brain going into overdrive.

 

He walked for what seemed like days, nothing but the same barren wasteland stretching before him. His shoes had grown worn down and his coat had grown too hot for the bright midday sun constantly above his head. The only respite Deacon found was the few gas stations as he approached the area he knew his target was being harbored.

As he passed another broken down gas station, Deacon crouched, seeing the faint burrow marks from nearby mole rats. He pulled out his gun and began slowly creeping around the side of the building. He aimed and pulled the trigger at the first sign of the pinkish skin, but when it didn’t squeal as the blue energy crackled along its body, he tensed, lowering his gun again.

There, in a small careful pile before him rest a half dozen mole rat bodies, burn marks scorching the sides of their bodies and heads. Deacon slowly stepped closer, inspecting the bodies for signs of anything leading to his target. The marks were familiar in size and depth, but the care placed on the bodies was unusual and caused Deacon a bit of pause. A strange feeling began to stir in his gut that he couldn’t put a name to yet. The closest feeling he had felt this early on was fear, but also sadness. He took a deep breath to push the feeling away, but as he turned to continue towards his mark, the feeling persisted.

The small cave grew even more and more prominent the closer he came to it and an unnerving feeling began to fully settle in his stomach. His mind had been running scan after scan to put a name to the feeling, and as soon as he arrived at the small cave, he finally assigned a name to it. Remorse.

 

“What are you doing here?”

The voice was just loud enough to let Deacon snap back into his current mindstate, blinking a few times to get his bearings back on current reality. His mind is reeling, too much information being processed at the same time as his realities began quickly overlapping. He blinks up at Danse, looming over him, face angry and red, out of his power armor, but it’s easy enough to see his gun raised in his left hand, and in the next blink, he was walking deeper into a cave, darkness slowly pooling around him as he walked deeper and deeper. The feeling makes him feel almost sick enough to throw up.

“You better have a good god damn reason for being in my house right now Deacon.”

Deacon blinks a few times, realities rapidly shifting behind his eyelids, feeling his mind begin to buckle as he tries to form words. His brain quickly begins to shut down and reboot, but he’s not sure if that, or the butt of Danse’ gun knocks him out first.


	2. Turing Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What about this? If you could save two children by killing eight raiders, would you?”  
> “Are the kids evil?” Deacon raises his eyebrow at Curie.

The earth beneath Deacon’s feet grew solid as the cave tunnel evens out, light flooding into the area around the newly opened expanse. Deacon quickly took in the well lit cave expanse he found himself in. The area beyond the makeshift wall looked vast and intricate. He quickly took in as much of the area as he could before a small voice stole his attention.

“E-excuse me sir. You really shouldn’t be here.” The young girl’s small frame looked imposing from atop the guard tower, the hilt of a gun sticking up from behind her back. Deacon might have even felt frightened if he didn’t still feel remorse and if she didn’t look as absolutely scared as she did right then.

“I’m looking for a man. I know he’s been here and I know you don’t want to lie. Tell me where he is and I will take good care of him.”

The young girl looked at him wearily before sighing. She gave him a small nod before letting the door open before him. She slowly stepped down from the perch and began leading him towards the interior of the cavern.

“Welcome to Little Lamplight, I guess.” she mumbled, kicking a small rock in her path and letting it skitter haphazardly towards the center of the complex. “He’s just past here. He looks a little wonky right now, but he said the person who comes for him would understand.”

The feeling from earlier crept farther up Deacon’s throat, making him feel uneasy. The cave floor began a steady decline and the sensation of shifting directions almost made him lose his balance. His hands slowly began shaking, his wrist unable to keep still as the nervous energy poured through him.

His guide led him to a small building against one of the walls.

“I would walk you in, but I really should get back to my post.” She looked down at her feel for a second before looking back up at Deacon. “Plus I’m kind of scared of him. I know it’s just because of what’s going on, but I don’t like it.” She squeezed her eyes shut as if trying to push the image out of her mind. “When you’re ready to leave, just leave. No one is going to stop you.”

Without even opening her eyes again, she turned and began walking back towards the entrance, leaving Deacon alone with just his own thoughts and a closed door.

 

Deacon blearily opened his eyes and sees an unfamiliar roof above his head. He quickly begins scrambling to sit up straight, but the pounding in his head and sudden vertigo caused him to flop back down.

“Woah! Deacon! Buddy you gotta stay horizontal.” The sounds of boots hitting wood flooring accompany the sound of Whisper’s voice as her head comes into his field of vision. Her bright hair is much brighter without his sunglasses, but the deep bags under her eyes are just as dark as he expected them to look.

“What happened?” he asked, moving a hand to rub his uncovered eyes. He blinked a few times and took in as much of the room as he could. Blue walls, clean tables, paintings of cats. Curie’s. “How’d I get here?”

Whisper loomed over him, eyes filled with concern, but something a little more. Anger. “Why were you in Danse’ house?”

“Well, it’s actually a funny story,” Deacon starts as Whisper rolls her eyes at him. “Sturges wanted me to grab some tools he had left behind at Danse’ but didn’t have the technical know how like me to do it.”

“Yeah.” Whisper sighs. “Sure, okay, but why didn’t you grab them and get out? Or tell Danse why you were there? He’s a pretty understanding guy when it comes to the weird things you do.”

Deacon squints at her, creasing his eyebrows and giving her a distrusting smirk. He then presses his eyes closed as a rush of pain and overstimulation passes through his brain.

 

He pushed the small door open, peering into the dimly lit room beyond. A small child sat on a table, hand placed on a taller man’s cheek, shining a bright light into his eyes. The taller man’s hair was long and ragged and what was visible of his shirt was coated in blood. Neither looked up as he began to enter, but the small child gave a small wave with their flashlight.

 

“Hey, come back to me Deek.” Whisper snapped her fingers in his face, getting him to open his eyes to her. “Did you just have another one?”

He blinks up at her, trying to understand what she’s trying to say before it clicks.

“Yeah. It’s getting to be every time I close my eyes now.”

“Is that what happened at Danse’?”

Deacon chuckles softly. “Nah, I just really wanted to see him in just a jumpsuit and have him hit me with his gun a few times. It’s a guilty pleasure of mine, really. He’s just too irresistible.”

Whisper laughs softly, smiling down at him, but her eyes are filled with concern.

“Tomorrow morning we can set for Goodneighbor if you want to see if Amari can try to fix whatever’s messing up.” She gives him a hopeful smile.

“Yeah, that sounds just dandy. Can I get up now? I’ve got more town to help. Sturges is probably throwing a fit I ditched out on him and you know how he can get am I right? I feel like I should be here fixing things and not incurring his wrath upon the town which I can’t really do if I’m not in town. I think it’ll be fine. Get someone to come here and do a quick reset and it’ll be just peachy.” Deacon forces a smile at Whisper.

“Deacon it is literally 11 at night. Sturges probably saw the commotion when Danse brought you over here so I think he will _probably_ understand. Plus I think the only person you should see is Amari and she can’t bring her equipment here.”

Deacon’s cheeks tinge pink. “Wait be kind rewind. You didn’t bring me here? Or Curie?”

“I mean, Deek, I wasn’t here until just a little bit ago and Curie said she came in and saw you already in her patient bed just past noon. Plus, I believe Danse. He’s pretty bad at lying.”

“Damn, you’re right.” Deacon chuckles softly, relaxing into the hospital bed. “Does this mean I can finally get my meals brought to me? I’m sure Codsworth would love it, and he’d be the only other one who would care about my beautiful face being as bruised as a mutfruit.”

“What bruises? Deacon, you weren’t hit, you fell and hit the back of your head.” Whisper tilts her head and looks at Deacon in his uncovered eyes, studying him slowly. She moves the back of her hand to rest against his forehead, watching. He involuntarily winces, knowing the pain from his healing bruises will come.

It never does, and he looks up at Whisper as he tries to shuffle through shock into nonchalance. “Man, that Curie is a miracle worker am I right?”

“Deacon, are you doing okay?” Whisper moves her hand to his shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze.

He is about to answer when the door to the clinic opens, a calm Curie peeking her head through.

“Monsieur Deacon! I am glad to see that you are awake!” She calmly pushes into the room, immediately setting to work on asking him various questions.

“How are your eyes Deacon? Are you still seeing double? What about your head? How is the bump from where you fell?”

“I’m fine Curie. Head hurts a little bit but I think that’s just because the intelligence is trying to push in from just being so close to you.”

Curie smiles at him but clicks her tongue against her teeth. “Deacon, you know that knowledge is not affected by osmosis.”

“Damn. That one always used to work on Carrington.” he chuckles.

“Bet it still does.” Whisper snickers, hiding her smile and the soft whispered words behind her hand.

“Now, I must run some simple diagnostics on you monsiour. Please answer to the best of your abilities.” Curie picks a large clipboard and pen off the bedside table, setting to work on writing things down.

“Wait let me try one more time!” Deacon put his hands up, causing his vision to spin slightly. He blinks a few times to clear it away before ignoring Curie’s concerned look. “Did you know I’m an organ donor?”

Curie opens her mouth to interject before stopping, reading the situation and replying with a small ‘no.’

“Just wanted to let you know, just in case you were going to follow through on stealing my heart.”

Deacon and Whisper both crack, laughing louder than the both of them had in years. Curie gives a soft giggle, moving her clipboard up to cover her red cheeks as Deacon wipes a small tear from his eyes.

“That one always worked on Carrington, too.” he chuckles, beaming.

“Alright Monsiour Deacon, can I run my tests yet?” she smiles at him, lowering her clipboard.

“Yeah, sure.” He lifts up onto his shoulders and pops his spine before rolling and popping his neck and shoulders. He flops back down with a sigh. “Alright, now I’m ready.”

Whisper pulls up a folding chair and sat on it backwards, arms draped over the back.

“Alright. First, do you feel any throbbing in your head?” Curie began.

“More than usual? No.” Decon responds, relaxing back into the hospital style bed.

“What color do you see when you look at the painting to your left?”

He looks over to the small painting of a cat. It was a soft tabby, the brownish orange ball peeking out from behind a rubber ball.

“Brown, orange, red.”

“Good, good. Now can you logically tell me why time flies like a bullet, but fruit flies like a mutfruit?”

Deacon has to think for a second before laughing softly. A smile curls across his lips as he begins to explain. “Its an old world saying. It means time seems to pass quickly, but through the power of language and humor, also means the flies congregate around fresh fruit. It's a joke.”

Curie smiles at him and quickly writes something on her clipboard.

“What about this? If you could save two children by killing eight raiders, would you?”

“Are the kids evil?” Deacon raises his eyebrow at Curie.

“I would assume not, no.” she sputters.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you Cure. I'd save ‘em. Plus, like, fuck raiders am I right Whisper?” He extends his left hand off the bed towards her. She reaches out and gives him a firm high five, chuckling under her breath.

“Deacon, you must understand that this is not a group activity.” She sighs softly. “Either way, the test is over. You have nothing wrong cognitively or physically, but I do believe you have a slight malfunction mechanically.”

Deacon and Whisper sighs simultaneously, Deacon dropping back onto his back on the hospital bed and Whisper dropping her forehead on the backrest of the chair.

“Off to Amari’s tomorrow morning Deacon.” Whisper sighs, lifting a hand to scrub over her tired eyes. “Just you and I.”

“Well, shit.”

Deacon sighs dramatically, pulling a blanket from the foot of the hospital bed up and over himself. “Goodnight then, _mom_.”

“Deacon, it’ll be okay.” She stands slowly, reaching to place a hand on his shoulder.

“I think he just needs some more rest dear.” Curie places her hand atop Whisper’s. Whisper looks over at Curie, giving her a small smile before standing to leave. As her combat boots thump against the hardwood floor, the sound is mirrored in the frantic knocking of the clinic door. Whisper opened it slowly, dreading the urgent knock.

“General! Macready said you’d be in here. There’s an urgent matter at outpost Zimonjia. Two good men were killed by deathclaws last night and they need our help.”

Whisper looks between Deacon’s fake-sleeping blanket form and Preston’s worried eyes. She lets out a loud groan, raking her hands down her face before sighing again.

“Alright. We leave first thing tomorrow morning. I just need to talk to Danse first.”

Preston nods frantically, quickly stepping out of the doorway as she stomps out onto the street mumbling under her breath.

She makes it the few yards to Danse’ house before just kicking in the door. The wood bowed slightly, but opened quickly and with a loud _snap_ against the wall.

“Paladin!” she yells, looking around his living room for any sign of him. There is a mug of a dark liquid on the counter next to an empty ashtray, but other than that, the house barely even looks lived in. “Paladin Danse if you don’t answer me I swear to god.”

She turns the corner into the hallway, pushing the door to his room open to see him sitting up straight in his bed, head still, eyes empty.

“Danse! Danse? Paladin?” she moves into his field of vision, giving him a few quick snaps in front of his eyes before he quickly shakes his head, looking up at her blearily.

“Yes knight?” he asks, voice dry and cracked.

“I needed to ask a favor, but if what is happening is what I think is happening, I think I’ll be doing you a favor instead.”

Danse gives a low cough, clearing his throat. “What do you need knight?”

“I need you to take Deacon to Goodneighbor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless my betas @nomadquail and @http-r0x on tumblr


	3. Reality in Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bright light flashed into his eyes as he began to stir. Danse blinked a few times, trying to focus on the small room around him before getting once again distracted by the bright light in his eyes. He lifted an arm to try and block it but found his arms too heavy to lift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this chapter would be:  
> mentioned needles in the form of stimpack use and the beginnings of dissociation  
> Thanks for being here!!!!!!!

“What?”

Whisper groans, rubbing her hands over her face.

“Danse. I need you to take Deacon to the Memory Den because I can’t.” Whisper raises her hand up to stop Danse as he opens his mouth to reply. “Now before you say anything, Preston just called me out and Deacon needed this yesterday. I need someone else who’s more-” she pauses, trying to grasp for words that wouldn’t make him uncomfortable but finding none. “-technological than others. And before you start asking why someone else can’t go instead it’s because Nick is still on Spectacle Island and Curie needs to stay here and run the clinic and I’m pretty sure that if X and Deacon are in the same room for too long they’d kill each other. So I would really appreciate it if you’d just go to Goodneighbor with him because he really needs this Danse.” She exhales, waiting for his incoming protests.

“Sure.”

“What?” Whisper stops, hands mid gesture as she looks up into Danse’s eyes.

“I’ll go. You need me to, so I will.”

Whisper smiles and Danse only has a split second to react before her arms are around his neck.

“Thank you so much Danse. This means the world to me, you know.” Whisper smiles, giving him a squeeze. 

He gives her a small pat on the back before she lets go, giving him a warm smile. 

“Get to sleep, knight. You’ve got a big morning tomorrow.” Danse says, keeping a hand on her shoulder. 

Whisper smiles softly and nods. She places her hand over his and gives it a small squeeze. 

“You get some sleep too, Danse.”

He nods at her, releasing her shoulder. He lets her go and waits till he hears her boots on the road before letting out a shaky sigh. 

He turns and lets his body fall back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling above him. He lets out a long, slow breath and tries to fall asleep, knowing the next couple of days would be long and difficult. 

Before he knows it, his breaths slow and his mind drifts. Dreams were normally weird or uncomfortable, but Danse found himself dreaming about places he hasn’t been to in years. 

 

A bright light flashed into his eyes as he began to stir. Danse blinked a few times, trying to focus on the small room around him before getting once again distracted by the bright light in his eyes. He lifted an arm to try and block it but found his arms too heavy to lift. 

“You’re not gonna be able to move until everything wears off, and it’s not gonna wear off until you’re fully healed.” The light moved away and Danse could finally see the room better. 

The room was blank and dark. There were a few scattered beds and medical equipment, but other than that, the room was pretty empty. The person above him seemed to be a young child, no older than ten. 

“It’s gonna be alright sir. We’re gonna fix you up real good.” The child sighed. Her hands shook slightly as she traded the flashlight for a stimpack. She slowly slid it into Danse’s arm and pressed the depressor. He sighed softly as he felt the warmth begin to flood into his body. 

“Can you speak yet?” the girl asked him. 

Danse opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat and wouldn’t push out. He sighed and frowned in resignation. 

“That’s fine.” The girl stopped, pulling the used stimpack out and replacing it with a small bandage. “You can blink though, right?”

Danse, on instinct, began blinking quickly to make sure. 

The girl giggled softly, moving the roll of bandages up to cover her mouth. 

“Alright. Blink a bunch if no, but once if yes, okay?” she looked down at Danse, watching his eyes. 

He blinked once, slowly.

“Good! Alright, basics first. Do you hurt?”

Danse took a deep breath, then blinked once. 

“Alright. I can fix that. Is it unbearable?”

Danse thought for a second before blinking a few times, quickly. 

“That’s good.” She put down the roll of bandages and picked up a small clipboard and a pencil. The clipboard had a half-faded decal on it that looked slightly like an animal. “Do you know what happened to you?”

Danse tried to recall, but squoze his eyes shut as pain shot across his mind. He opened them and tried to blink as quickly as possible. 

“Oh, well, that’s not good at all. I can help you remember some stuff when you’re able to speak, okay? Do you think someone is coming for you?”

Danse tried to think, recalling both a long black coat and a different person in tattered brown jeans before his mind shot pain. He blinked once. 

“Are they the good guys?”

Her question was simple enough, but Danse couldn’t find the answer easily in his mind, so instead he just looked up at her, unblinking, gaze trained. Her eyes were a soft almost white-blue. The skin around them looked as if she had never seen the sun in her life, despite her very dark skin tone. 

“I guess that’s a question to be answered another day, then.” she said, putting the clipboard back down. “I’m gonna need you to get some rest now and we can talk more in the morning. Just close your eyes, mungo.”

 

Danse awakes the next morning with the sun in his eyes and the sound of conversation outside his window. 

“It’ll be okay Whisper. It’s not gonna take us long and we’ll be back before you know it.” The louder voice -  _ Deacon,  _ Danse thinks - says. 

“I know. I know. I’m just worried about you both going off alone.” the softer voice -  _ Knight Elle, _ Danse assumed - mumbles. “I’m worried something will happen.”

There is a pause in the talking making Danse wish he was able to see them instead of just hear. He hears the crunching of hard dirt and grass beneath shoes and a soft gasp of air. Danse tenses up slightly and decides it might be a good idea to leave them alone to their intimate moment. 

He gets up and stretches, keeping out of the view from the window and moves to the bathroom. He scrubs his face and hands with clean water, watching the dirt rinse into the drain. He glances up and catches a look at his own eyes. Their color is deep and weary, but still a recognizable brown. He stares into his own eyes, trying to see behind his pupils, wondering about the mechanics behind them. His eyes were deep and if he looked close enough, he could almost see past them. For a moment, he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a shorter chapter, but i just wanted to get something out because i work in retail and christmas is now over  
> i have more time to write now, but im still v forgetful and inconsistent  
> hit me up if you have anything you'd wanna see! @paraducksspace  
> As always, thanks my betas/idea soundboards @nomadquail and @http-r0x on tumblr


	4. No Witty Comeback

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You doin’ okay there big guy? I thought I was the one with the brain issues here, not you.” Deacon says, giving a weary laugh.
> 
> “I’m fine. Just a headache.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Thanks for being here and reading this!  
> I've had a surge of creativity and wrote a lot of different fics recently, but I'm still personally in love with this one, so here it is

“You’re finally up!”

A small voice called to him from a space to his left. Danse blearily rubbed his eyes and groaned, trying to bend enough to pop his spine without actually moving. He blinked his eyes open enough to begin to let the room form into shapes. The small girl was looming over him, her white-blue eyes trained on his. She gave him a soft smile as he opened his eyes fully.

“I’m glad you’re awake! And it looks like you have almost complete motor functions! How are you feeling internally, though sir?”

Danse took a deep breath to assess how he felt, letting his mind scan his internal functionality. He blinked a few times and nodded to her.

“I’m feeling fine, now, actually.” He gave her a weak smile and a thumbs up.

“That’s good!” she smiled, giving him a thumbs up in response. “Would you want to walk around town a bit to see if all your bits are fully functional? Mayor wants to see you anyways, so it’ll be two bloatflies with one bullet.”

Danse gave her a small nod before slowly sitting up and began the process of standing up out of bed. His legs were wobbly and his balance was off, but with time and leverage on the neighboring counter, he was able to get his bearings.

“Well, let's head out then!” she smiled, skipping towards the door, happier than Danse had ever seen her before.

He always had a fondness for kids. There was only one he could clearly remember and the both of them got along fine in a weird boss’s son/employee relationship way.  He actually felt a sense of real excitement to meet these children and see if they got along with him as well as this girl had.

 

Danse blinks softly when he hears a soft knocking at his door.

“Uh, give me just a moment, knight! I’m still buckling my armor.” he says, scrambling to grab the jumpsuit he had left in a pile by the sink. He was zipping up the center and sliding into his boots when he hears the door swing open. His anger flares for a moment as he imagines Deacon breaking into his house again until he sees a small head peek around the corner.

“Oh, hey Shaun. What brings you here?” He kneels down to tie his boot, but uses it as a way to be on Shaun’s level.

“I, uh, I was wondering if while you were gone I could tinker with your extra suit of armor. Mom doesn’t let me touch hers and I just want to know how they work.” Shaun looks down at his feet as Danse watches him through his lashes as he ties the boot.

“Hmm.” Danse hums, standing to kneel on the other leg. “Hmmm.” Danse smiles, quickly tying this boot and standing, looking down at Shaun. “Alright,” He quickly runs his hand through the mop of reddish brown hair on the kid’s head. “but only if you have Sturges watching over you. He’s good with armor and great with people if you have a question or make a mistake.” Danse kneels to look Shaun in the eyes and gives him a smile. “I want it in good or better condition when I come home, okay soldier?”

Shaun gives Danse a small nod. His eyes are serious and determined, with a small hint of what Danse reads as fear behind them.

Danse leans forward and gives Shaun a kiss on the forehead, before ruffling his hair up even more.

“Don’t worry about it, kid. I trust you.”

Shaun gives him a small smile before wrapping his arms around Danse’s midsection, giving him a squeeze.

“Come back safe.” he mumbles into Danse’s chest.

Danse smiles softly before wrapping his arms around Shaun, giving him a squeeze in response.

“I will, kiddo.” He pats Shaun on the back as they pull away from the hug. The small kid smiles up at him before giving a small wave and running out sheepishly. Danse smiles softly as he tucks his flight suit into his boots and gloves before climbing into his suit of power armor, parked neatly at the end of the hallway before his room.

His now-heavy footsteps carry him outside to see Deacon kneeling down, arms wrapped around Shaun in a familial embrace.

Danse waits until the two seperate to give a low cough in Deacon’s direction. Deacon looks up over his glasses and leans in to Shaun, whispering something into his ear. Shaun giggles softly and nods before pressing his cheek against Deacon’s. Deacon gives him a small squeeze before standing and giving Shaun a mock salute. Shaun laughs and salutes back.

“So, ready to go?” Deacon steps up to Danse, looking up at him.

“Are you prepared? Do you have ample amounts of stimpacks and radaways?” Danse asks, pulling the laser rifle off of his back. The weight of it in his hands is comfortable and familiar.

 

“Where’s my stuff?” Danse asked, looking down at the young girl as she opened the front door to the clinic.

“Oh, you mean the junk you had when you stumbled in? Your gun is in our possession until you leave, but the coat was in tatters, so we tossed it- hope you don’t mind. The mungo caravans come around often enough that we can get you something new to wear soon. Until then it’s fists and rags, sir.”

Danse’s hands twitched slightly, a feeling of uneasy dread coming over him without the feeling of his gun in his hands. He dug his fingernails into his palm to both ground himself and give his hands something to do.

 

“Yeah, mom. Now let’s head out before I keel over from brain hemorrhage.” Deacon says, hefting his bag onto his shoulder and unholstering his pistol. Danse nods to him, setting off. Deacon follows behind slowly, crouching down and making sure that nothing surprises them from behind.

They make their way peacefully past the Red Rocket station, Danse nodding and Deacon waving at the Caretaker there. The Caretaker gives them a weary smile, Danse for his rocky attitude towards him and Deacon for their earlier conversations.

As they make their way into Concord and past the Museum of Freedom, Danse looks up at the crashed vertibird on the roof.

“What a waste of valuable technology.”

“What, that thing?” Deacon asks, pointing his pistol at it.

“Yes, ‘that thing’. It’s a very powerful piece of machinery and deserves better than the be stuck on top of a roof instead of the hands of someone competent enough to use it.” Danse said, gazing up at it and sighing.

 

The duo stepped out into the rest of the cave and Danse caught his breath. There were so many different interconnecting bridges and working lights. The town was a marvel.

The small girl leading him let out a soft sigh before coming back and grabbing his hand, tugging him forwards.

“Come on, Knock Knock wants to see you.”

 

“Who, the Brotherhood? Do you mean the Brotherhood? You know, the guys that want to kill you because of their raging hatred for any technology that can fight back against their possessive grasp?” Deacon said, stepping into Danse’s vision. Danse looks down to see Deacon, hand on his hip and eyebrow cocked. “We could probably get it down and give it to them if you really want to. It _is_ missing both of its guns, if I recall the story right, so if you really want to give it to them it’s not as if they could immediately kill us with our very gracious Trojan Vertibird.”

“Wait, what story?” Danse asks, focusing just past Deacon’s sunglasses.

“Oh, Whisper never told you about that time she took on a deathclaw with a minigun and a set of power armor right out of the fridge? She hadn’t even been out of cryo a full day and she had already killed a dozen or better raiders, properly got into and maneuvered power armor, broke the minigun off the crashed vertibird, and killed a dozen more raiders and a deathclaw at the same time.”

Danse knows a lot about Knight Ellian, but the idea that she had done this fresh out of cryostasis and had not told him sheds a new light on her in his mind.

 

The lights were dim, but brighter than Danse was used to at this point. He followed the small girl ahead of him diligently until they came to a large barricade, bright lights shining right at him from both sides of the wooden gate.

 

“Wow.” Danse mumbled.

“What?” Deacon paused, leaning forwards towards Danse. “No witty comeback? No solemn answers? Just ‘wow’? Huh. I guess I’ll take it.”

“Sorry, that’s just an interesting story to process.” Danse says, squeezing his eyes shut as the images flash through his brain like an ice cold Nuka Cola.

“You doin’ okay there big guy? I thought I was the one with the brain issues here, not you.” Deacon says, giving a weary laugh.

“I’m fine. Just a headache.” Danse waves him off, continuing to walk down the road past the old church.

“Would you want to swing up to the diner and try eating something?” Deacon asks, placing a hand on Danse’s arm.

“That would,” Danse stops, moving a hand up to rub into the bridge of his nose. “be appreciated.”

They walk down the road for a bit longer until coming up to the Drumlin Diner. Trudy is inside, wiping down her counter when Deacon’s frame darkens her doorway.

“Now what can I do for you today?” she asks, voice weary but calm.

“Just lookin’ for somewhere to eat for a bit ma’am.” Deacon says, pulling the bag off his shoulder.

“You willing to pay for your seat or ‘r you gonna eat outside?” Trudy leans more forward on the counter, trying to get a good look at Danse through the door. He watches her hand go beneath the counter for something and jumps into overdrive.

Deacon glances at Danse quickly before shaking his head and planning his escape.

“I think we can make it to the next settlement on what we have. Nevermind, but have a good day.”

Deacon is out the front door before Trudy can even respond.

“I thought we were stopping.” Danse says, voice a little gruff.

“We were, but gossip travels fast by brahmin. I think she knew who you are and that there’s a price on your head.” Deacon says, pushing Danse back towards the road. “Now, the reason she’s not dead now, if you’re wondering, is because lots of good people want you dead again and many people are guided purely by caps.” Deacon’s mind catches up with his mouth and he begins to just spill words out as he thinks to cover his tracks. “Isn’t it weird that American capitalism still fuels human interactions despite the war being 200 years ago and the ideals of economy disbanding with them? Is it just human nature to want to hoard money? What’s with that anyways? Have you seen that one room Ellian has in her old house that’s just filled with bundles of old world cash? Isn’t that such a wild concept?”

Danse gives a soft chuckle at Deacon’s rush of thoughts.

“I have seen that room, actually. Wasting perfectly good armory space for useless cloth paper. Damn shame.”

Deacon smiles up at Danse as he laughs.

“Was that a joke?”

“Well, I sure hoped so.” Danse smiles, raising his free hand to rub where his neck meets his armor.

Seeing Danse genuinely smile was a sight that was few and far between, and it makes Deacon’s heart lurch upwards.

The pair continues to walk until they come up to Sunset Drive-In in the middle of the midday market.

They had really done a lot to help this small settlement, and seeing tons of caravans here both on their way to or coming from Sanctuary, or heading somewhere else, the fruits of their labor shine through.

The pair make their way to the diner area that was left over from the pre-war structure and take up a seat on a bench.

“Just a question, Deacon. If you said it was the caravans that want me dead, why go to the nearest caravan hub?” Danse leans forwards on the bench to look closer at Deacon. He keeps his eyes trained on his suit beside them, but is intent on looking past Deacon’s sunglasses.

“Well now, metal man. It’s because there are more people here. Think about it logically. Would someone who needs to bring you in to the Brotherhood capture you when there are tons of people who actually like you here? The answer is probably not. Someone might, but good luck to them, honestly.” Deacon leans his arms on the table, looking across at Danse, trying to imitate his look.

A settler comes around and places some different meats and fruits on the table between the two of them. Deacon slides her a handful of caps from his bag before she nods, leaving them alone.

“Go ahead big guy. Need you to stay sharp while we’re on the road just in case.” Deacon placed a finger against his head, giving his temple a few small taps.

“Are you going to pass out while we travel? I also need you in top shape until we can get you to a doctor.”

“I’m gonna be fine big guy. Now, eat up so we can head out again.” Deacon gives Danse a smile, stealing a piece of mutfruit from the plate.

“You do know that if your condition is believed to be too dire to make the rest of the walk, I can always call in a vertibird.” Danse began slowly picking at the food between them, trying to keep his attention on everything around him.

 

The small girl climbed down from the barricade, landing with a _thump_ on the packed rubble ground.

“Finally! It’s good to see you up mungo. Thanks for taking such good care of him Penny. We’re sure gonna miss you when I leave.”

“I’m gonna miss you too!” The doctor, Penny, said, giving a bright smile to Knock Knock.

“It’s been good to be king since Macready stepped down, but we’ve got official mayoral business to deal with! Alright mungo, ready for some questions?”

 

“It’s so sweet you’d get yourself killed for me, Danse, but I’d rather walk. Nothing better than wearing out your shoes and not being able to see the enemies around the next building. Either way, I think it’s time we head out.” Deacon says, pushing away from the table to stand. He grabs the now empty, _It wasn’t empty just a moment ago, was it?_ plate and takes it up to the diner counter.

Danse watches as Deacon walks, watching how gracefully his legs fall and how silent his footfalls tend to be. Danse suddenly becomes conscious of how loud his footfalls are and worries if he has ever compromised Deacon’s attempt at stealth. Deacon walks back, giving a slight stretch to his back and arms before clapping Danse on the back.

“Ready to go big guy?”

“Yeah, let me get back into my armor first.” Danse says, finally standing from the bench.

“Aw, and I wanted to give it a spin this time.” Deacon says, lifting his bag onto his shoulders.

Danse gives a soft chuckle before climbing into the suit. He feels much more comfortable inside the armor, and lets out a long sigh. The slight pinch of the suit against his back and thighs and the weight of the structure covering his arms makes him feel safe and at home.

Deacon clears his throat.

“Sorry to interrupt your obvious you-time with your exoskeleton, but one of the caravan guards has been eyeing you since he came in, so I think we better skedaddle.”

“Yes, of course. You lead, I follow.” Danse makes an effort to look around and catch eyes with every caravan guard he can see before following Deacon down the road.

They pass a Railroad roadblock and Deacon exchanges quick words and heavy handshakes most likely containing holotapes and coded messages. Danse tries to pick up on a few of the key phrases but stops as he realizes that he wants to listen to learn more about the Railroad, not for Brotherhood intel, but just pure curiosity.

The two set off on the road again with little to no problem. They make it about a minute’s walk from the Mystic Pines retirement center before Danse notices something off. Deacon’s steps have grown less and less lithe and careful and he no longer had his gun at the ready. Danse hurries to get in pace with him and ask what’s wrong before Deacon collapses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please comment!!! I want to know your thoughts!!!  
> Or hmu @paraducksspace on tumblr and stuff
> 
> Thanks to my betas @nomadquail and @http-r0x on tumblr


	5. Two if By Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Goddamn stupid idiot.” The voice carries through Deacon’s mind for a moment. He felt his sneakers hit what felt like a door jamb before fluttering his eyes open.
> 
> “Now don’t be so hard on yourself, bud.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very short  
> Work is hard  
> Therapy is nice  
> I love you and want to show progress

“It’s good that you finally showed up.” the young girl said, pointing the light back into her subject’s eyes. “We were starting to grow attached to him.”

The man on the table laughed softly. The sound made Deacon’s heart lurch forwards. His hair was much longer than Deacon remembered it being when he left, and his smile made him feel more emotion than he had in his entire life.

 

Deacon feels himself being lifted, his frame supported by uncomfortable metal sticking into him at awkward angles before drifting away again.

 

“I’m glad to see you’re safe, M7.” Deacon found himself saying, softer than he had anticipated.

The man looked up into Deacon’s eyes, a pang of emotion crossing them. Deacon’s stomach turned as he realized he might have made a mistake calling him by his designation.

M7 looked at the young girl, they had a small conversation that consisted of mostly glances and facial expressions. Deacon couldn’t get a good idea of what they were trying to say to each other before the girl nodded, giving M7 a pat on the leg. She stayed there for a second longer before giving his leg a squeeze and walking out the door.

“Are you here to take me back?”

Deacon was surprised at how raspy the other’s voice was.

“Well, about that.” Deacon stopped, moving his hand to his neck. “Can I ask you about something first?”

“Why?” M7 ran his hand through his hair, pulling it away from his eyes. “I mean, yes, go ahead, but why? Does it really matter?”

“What’s your name?”

 

“Goddamn stupid idiot.” The voice carries through Deacon’s mind for a moment. He felt his sneakers hit what felt like a door jamb before fluttering his eyes open.

“Now don’t be so hard on yourself, bud.” Deacon’s voice was hard and scratchy, and came out much more strangled than he had hope it would be. He keeps blinking to try and get clarity on what he was seeing, but everything was so dark and blurry.

He hears a hard boot against a wall before he’s falling.

 

“My designation is M7-97. You know that.”

“No, I meant your name. What do you go by? What do you want to be called?” Deacon’s heart wrenched for the look on M7’s face.

“I- I don’t know.”

 

His back hits the stuffed bed and the breath gets knocked out of his lungs. Deacon scrambles to sit up, eyes finally trying to adjust to the darkness.

“What was that for? If you wanted to get me into bed, you could’ve just asked.” Deacon gives a soft but strained laugh.

“You frightened me! How long have you been awake, just letting me put myself in danger?” Danse sounded angry, but Deacon can’t see his face enough to be sure.

“Why is it so dark? I can’t see your godly visage in this lack of light.” Deacon was gaining confidence based on the idea that Danse hadn’t killed him out of frustration yet.

“It’s dark because it’s past sunset and I didn’t want to alert any hostiles nearby of our presence.” Danse’s voice was suddenly tired instead of angry, his words coming out between soft sighs. Deacon can almost see his hand rubbing his forehead.

“Where are we, anyways?” Deacon asks, pulling his sore legs beneath him in a criss-cross on the bed.

“A communal home, I didn’t catch the name. You probably call it something else, though.”

“Wait, why would I call it something else?”

“There’s a lantern in the window, and I’m not an idiot.”

Deacon begins trying to wrack his brain for a stop near where he last remembered them being, but nothing came to his mind. “Are- are you sure it’s not a trick?” Deacon’s hand goes to his hip to grab his gun.

“I’m sure there’s nothing on this floor at least. There’s a door I couldn’t pick open that probably leads downstairs, but I haven’t heard any activity through the floor, so I think we’re alright.”

Deacon is already swinging his legs over the side of the bed before Danse finishes his sentence.

“Locked door? Lead the way, tin man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless my betas as usual, but also bless my new therapist honestly


	6. Reclaimed Reclamation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Any monsters in here?” Deacon calls into the empty stairwell.
> 
> “Would they answer if there were?” Danse chuckles, raising his gun to peek around the doorway.
> 
> Deacon moves onto the landing to get a better look before turning and placing his hand over his heart. “Was that a joke? In a possibly dire situation? I had no idea you had it in you.”
> 
> “You bring out the worst in me.” Danse smiles at Deacon, causing a genuine blush to cross his face. Deacon quickly turns and descends the stairs to cover it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work sucks, heres the Gay Shit

The halls are empty and quiet but the creaking of Danse’s armor behind Deacon’s silent steps had recently become a comfort. They quickly make their way to the locked door, and Deacon makes quick work of it, unlocking it with ease. 

“I feel a little less bad about you breaking into my house now.” Danse mumbles. 

“You’re not special, I break into everyone’s house.” Deacon says, keeping his soft smile to himself as he pushes the door wide open. 

“Any monsters in here?” Deacon calls into the empty stairwell. 

“Would they answer if there were?” Danse chuckles, raising his gun to peek around the doorway. 

Deacon moves onto the landing to get a better look before turning and placing his hand over his heart. “Was that a joke? In a possibly dire situation? I had no idea you had it in you.” 

“You bring out the worst in me.” Danse smiles at Deacon, causing a genuine blush to cross his face. Deacon quickly turns and descends the stairs to cover it. 

As he reaches the bottom, Deacon stumbles for a second, expecting a step that wasn’t there. 

 

“I’ll think on a name while you tell me why you’re here, sweetheart.” The warm voice said, making Deacon’s heart melt a little, which scared him even more. 

 

“Are you okay?” A hand is on his knee and cheek, almost cradling Deacon against a warm, welcoming chest. He sighs into it, pushing his face further into the source of heat. It feels warm and smooth and protective. Deacon takes a deep breath, smelling warm oil and a strong familiar scent that turns his cheeks pink.  Deacon slowly cracks his eyes open, staring at the flat panel of Danse’s armor chestplate. Deacon quickly stumbles backwards in Danse’s arms, sliding out of his arms onto the cold cement floor of the building. He backs up against a wall, letting the cold stone seep into his exceptionally warm body. Deacon looks down at his scuffed sneakers as he rubs a hand across the back of his neck. 

“Sorry.” Deacon says, beginning to stand up, back pressed against the wall in the small corridor. “Let’s keep looking?”

“No, Deacon this is unsatisfactory. If you,” he stops for a second, taking a step closer to Deacon. “-faint in the line of duty again you’re putting not only yourself, but also me in danger. You need to rest as I finish searching the building.” Danse’s voice was calm but demanding, a deep tone Deacon had become unaccustomed to in their short travel. 

“Yeah, yeah alright. Don’t get yourself killed. How am I supposed to carry my own unconscious body into a bed?” Deacon says, using Danse to steady himself as he stood straight. Danse instinctively rests his hands on Deacon’s arms to steady him as a precaution if he began to faint again. The warmth that radiates from the soft gloves makes Deacon shiver. 

“Don’t worry about me Deeks. I do believe that you’re correct in the assumption that the building is free from hostiles. I will secure the basement and bring up anything of interest for you to look over when you wake from your much needed rest.” Danse levels his gaze at Deacon, trying to push his words directly into Deacon’s mind. He hears the words being said, and processes them slowly, but as Danse holds Deacon’s gaze, staring at him, sunglasses to perfectly soft brown eyes, Deacon was lost. 

Deacon can feel Danse’s hands on his arms, keeping him steady and warm. He gives a small nod and swallows quickly to cover a quiet squeak that emits from his throat against his volition. He doesn’t know what to do while Danse holds him in place, so he just looks down at where they’re touching, blush beginning to reach his ears. His heart wants to surge upwards into his throat, but he locks up his joints and goes stiff as a board, trying to look as uncomfortable with the physical contact as possible. He hopes his rigidity negates the blush that has crept all the way up and over his ears.  

“I think I can make it up the stairs by myself thanks.” Deacon says through gritted teeth, focusing on the lining of Danse’s gloves. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let you go then.” Danse says, loosening his grip on Deacon’s arms. “Wouldn’t want to impede your well-needed rest.”

“You’re gonna have to let go of me, eventually.” Deacon says, trying to reclaim the nonchalance in his voice. 

“Yes, of course, sorry.” Danse says. 

Deacon watches Danse’s hand move up and rest behind his neck as he steps back a little, rubbing where the suit meets his skin. Trying to avoid catching his eyes, Deacon quickly looks back down, but not before catching the soft dusting of a blush on Danse’s cheeks. 

Deacon relaxes his posture and tries to give Danse finger guns in the least awkward way possible. Danse raises an eyebrow at him, but Deacon is focused on the ground and the new scuffs on his shoes. 

“So I’m gonna go.” Deacon says, nodding his head towards the stairwell. They stand motionless for a few moments too many before Deacon lets out a shaky exhale. He watches his shoes move towards the stairs, not even sure if he’s controlling them anymore. 

“Yep. Going. Bye.” Deacon swallows his cool facade, slowly making his way up the stairs, watching his shoes land on every step, hoping he doesn’t accidentally miss one. He hears a few heavy steps climbing the stairs behind him as he reaches the landing. He makes his way into the room he was in before, landing face-first on the bed. His cheeks feel like they’re burning against the old bed, and he’s sure it’s not because of the leftover radiation. 

It only takes him a few moments of deep breathing to fall asleep.

  
  


“I want to save you.” As the words left Deacon’s mouth, he knew they were going to sound wrong. 

The man’s laugh came out choked. “Save me? I’m pretty fine where I am, thanks.”

“Really?” Deacon scoffed softly. “It doesn’t look like you’re too well off here.” 

The man was silent for a moment, looking down at his hands. “You’re not taking me back there, you know. I’m not going back. I’ll kill you with my bare hands before you take me back there.”

“I know you probably won’t trust me, but I don’t want to take you back. I want to take you somewhere safe.”

The man barked out a laugh. “Alright. I don’t trust you.”

 

He looks peaceful when he sleeps. Danse will never tell him that, but the splayed out and completely unguarded posture he held while asleep is actually quite endearing. Danse takes a step forward, out of his suit to not make as much noise. The floorboards still creek beneath his boots and he winces, watching Deacon shift in his sleep. He needs the rest, so Danse doesn’t want to wake him, but the curiosity is killing him. Danse looks at Deacon, curled up against the wall on the bed, shoes still on his feet. It’s kinda cute. He’s kinda cute, in a way that Danse had only recently discovered for himself. He lets out a soft sigh, letting himself sit down on the cold wood floor, leaning back against the slightly cracked door. His eyes drift closed as he watches Deacon’s ribcage rise and fall with his breathing.

 

It was hard to look past the desperation on the visitor’s face. He had been feeling so many mixed emotions when he had heard that  _ He _ was the one who had found him first. The dark glasses that were perched on his nose were a new addition, and the tattered black cloak was a good look on him, but he was tired, anyone could see that. 

“I want to take you somewhere far away from the Institute. Somewhere where they can never touch you again, M.” There was a conviction in his voice that stirred something within M7, something that had been pushed down for far too long. Emotions had always been a rough area for him, especially pertaining to his partner, but after a while such strong feelings become hard to ignore. 

“How would you even begin to approach the idea of doing that?” M7 asked. He knew his partner had been smart and cunning, but he had never expected this from him. M7 had never imagined such rebelliousness in the courser, but then again, he never imagined it within himself either. 

“I got in touch with the Railroad.”

M7 couldn’t breathe. He was taught to fear and hate the group for undoing all of the Institute’s progress, but hearing that the one person he trusted had turned to the group for help - it almost broke him. A small sob escaped M7’s mouth before he could move his hand to cover it. His old partner shifted forwards before stiffening and sitting back down. 

“Are you going to erase me?” The words came out quieter than he had hoped, and his voice was beginning to give to the tears forming in his eyes. 

“Do you want to be erased?” His voice was firm, rough edges and stiff orders, trying to mask feeling behind a robotic shell - an emotion M7 knew well. 

 

Deacon wakes with a start, breathing heavily. His hands shake as he reaches for his gun, clutching it like a safety net. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and looks around the room. It’s bathed in soft yellow morning light, the boarded up window beside him casting shadows across the floor. One single strip of light rests across Danse’s chest, trying to work it’s way up to his face. His eyes are closed and his face is peaceful, arms crossed over his chest. He’s snoring softly and Deacon actually has to stop himself from smiling. They’ve got a job to do and very little time to do it in. 

He slips off the bed, making sure his feet hitting the ground is louder than normal, trying to stir Danse from his sleep. His eyes blink open just as the soft stream of light crosses his eyes. He blinks them open and Deacon’s stomach does a flip. He has seen Danse’s eyes in the light before, but they had never looked this pretty. Deacon has to swallow the soft sound working its way up his throat with a cough, trying to mask the newly formed blush on his cheeks.

“You ready to go big guy?” Deacon asks, grabbing his bag from the side of the bed, trying not to look in Danse’s direction.

Danse groans as he stands, cracking his knees and shoulders, looking obviously uncomfortable with his sleeping choices. “Yeah, let me get back into my suit and we can head out.”

The door opens with a slow creak, and Danse opens the suit of power armor placed right in front of the door. 

“Expecting visitors?” Deacon asks, loading his gun while Danse makes sure everything is running correctly. 

“No, but you can never be to careful in the wasteland, Deacon.” 

Danse pulls out his rifle and steps away from the door, looking in at Deacon. “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be I guess.” Deacon says, pushing past Danse towards the front of the building, trying as hard as he can not to touch him. 

The walk is slow and uneventful, but by the time the sun begins to set again, the bright sign for the wonderful city of Goodneighbor is in sight. 

They push open to the smoke filled city and Deacon takes a deep breath. 

“Ah, the smell of death and murder, my two favorite smells in a city.” 

Danse rolls his eyes and gives a soft chuckle, following Deacon as he leads the way. 

The Memory Den is a nice place, comparatively. Danse always enjoyed tuning into the Silver Shroud radio when they came close, and he was tempted to stop in and say hi to Kent. He’d grown fond of him recently, but then again, he could say he was growing fonder of most people recently.

They’re led downstairs to Doctor Amari’s workshop, and Danse can feel the tension rolling off of Deacon. He stands awkwardly at the doorway while he explains to the doctor the predicament. 

“So you just need another memory addition? Easy enough to figure out.” Amari says, beginning to type rapidly on her terminal. “Alright. Memory share, then a connective addition. I can do that. If I can have you both take a seat in the chairs, we can begin the process.” 

Danse exhales slowly.  _ This must be why I was needed.  _  Danse thinks to himself.  _ Need to replicate empty storage on a hard drive. Simple enough. _ He tries to quell his anxieties as he sits back in the chair. 

“Hey Danse.” Deacon calls over to him, catching his eyes through the soft glass panel that’s closing around them. “Don’t hate me when we’re done. Just know that I’m sorry.”

Danse’s vision goes dark as the machine boots to life, hooking into his subconscious. 

Memories flash quickly before his eyes, some familiar, and some so utterly different that he’s unsure if they’re even real. 

“I think I’ve found the farthest back linked memory. I’m going to try to replicate from here.” Danse hears more typing, but his hands grow cold at the vision in front of him. 

“Oh, no. Oh, this wasn’t supposed to happen.” 

Her voice grows distant and Danse focuses on the man in front of him, or Deacon, through the eyes of his memory. 

Although disheveled and dirty, there’s no mistaking it. Danse is looking at himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for being here with me guys  
> I'm so tired  
> Sorry this took so long  
> Maybe only a little bit more till its done  
> hmu @paraducksspace on tumblr  
> bless my so @http-r0x and my encouraging beta @nomadquail


	7. The Replicated Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danse opens his eyes to a rusted out, sunbleached city. The sun was warm against his face, and Danse could almost taste the irradiated dust in the air. He glanced over, catching a look at a new, but more familiar face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its been a while  
> Life has been Weird  
> We're almost done yall

He didn’t remember his hair being that long. It was a weird experience, watching a memory of yourself that you don't remember exactly, but feeling the emotions of someone else in your mind. Up until now, Danse had written these scenes off as dreams, not bleed from his old life. Everything was quickly becoming too much for him to comprehend.

“I don’t want to forget.” he heard himself say. “But I don't want to live like this anymore.”

He sounded so broken, so tired. _Do I still sound like that?_ he wondered to himself. The emotions around him were sad, overwhelming, and sorrowful.

A sharp pain struck his brain as he heard a voice around him.

“A humble enough aspiration.” Deacon’s voice was the same, but there was the sound of a crumbling set of defenses in it. He felt Deacon’s hesitance, his fear. _He doesn’t have the ability to sound defensive like that._ Danse thought. _It’s all just light-hearted jokes to protect that fear now._

He watched himself mull it over for quite a while. His hands wrung together and tapped against his legs as he was thinking, a quirk he was sure he would be doing now if he had control of his hands. It was weird, to say the least, watching yourself fall into a nervous habit. He was sure that if he were anyone but himself, he would think it would look off-putting. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thinks he felt Deacon’s fondness towards the tick.

“Do you think they could do that? Lock it away, just in case? I-” he hears his own voice break as a sob slips past his lips. “I don’t want to be like this again. I don’t want to be used like this again.” Danse looks up and he can see his own eyes, a soft watery brown, expression pleading with himself, no, Deacon.

“Promise me.” He stands, taking only a few quick strides closer. Danse can almost feel the grip on his coat as he lifts himself- Deacon, up to stand. “You promise me that if anyone ever tries to take advantage of me again - ever makes me do wrong things for a bullshit ‘Greater Good’ ever again, you make me remember again.”

His eyes were burning like fire and Danse could feel the warm ragged breaths on his face.

“I don’t want to lose you.” Danse felt himself drop as he saw himself give in to another sob. His heart and Deacon’s heart were aching, and he felt so angry at the circumstances that had happened more recently, knowing that he had in fact become the one thing he didn’t want to be anymore.

Danse was busy stewing in his own anger and Deacon’s sadness that he hadn’t realized that he couldn’t see anymore. Then came the sensation of lips on his own, soft and wet with tears. He felt Deacon’s emotions around him melt before melting away. He suddenly remembered the feeling for himself.

 

He kissed his only real friend left at this point. He could feel the tears running down both of their cheeks at this point, making the kiss taste salty and feel slick against their chapped lips. Hands slowly came up to rest against Danse’ damp cheeks, holding him there, close. He felt so much emotion pouring out with his tear soaked lips, but he finally felt complete. He didn’t know that a kiss would feel like this back when his database was being filled with all the useless prewar mannerisms, but he didn't expect it to be like this at all. Both of their lips were chapped, and they were both crying, but they were together, hands constantly roaming from cheeks to chests to sides just to know the other is really there and alive.

The kiss broke with a rather violent sob, neither could be sure who from, but they continued their close embrace with the tightest hug either of them had ever had.

“I’ll find a way” his partner says. “I won't ever leave you.”

“Thank you.” he sobbed out. “Thank you so much.”

 

A voice called from all around Danse, reminding him he was merely visiting Deacon’s mental space. “I’ve completed mapping new neural pathways and dumping dead ended ones. I’m going to push you forward down this neural pathway again, Danse. All you need to do is play it out while I find new places to copy memories into. It won’t be too much longer. Deacon, all I need for you is to stay calm. If your pulse reaches too high I’ll have to sever the connection early. Just remain calm.”

 

Danse sighs softly as he feels his consciousness moving. It's a bit like being in a vertibird, looking down at the Commonwealth below. It feels like he is floating, but a distant part of him can still feel the chair beneath him and this soft clicks of Dr. Amari’s terminal keyboard. He wonders how Deacon is doing. Danse takes a few deep breaths before he arrives in the next memory, back in Deacon’s consciousness.

“I've found the next stable memory that needs repairing. I’m going to copy a few of your memories over to complete the space before trying to fix everything. From then on I’m just going to push through smaller memories. We’re just about finished.”

 

Danse opens his eyes to a rusted out, sunbleached city. The sun was warm against his face, and Danse could almost taste the irradiated dust in the air. He glanced over, catching a look at a new, but more familiar face. Danse noted his own features in the man. Strong jaw, slight stubble, small scars, confident eyes. He felt the surge of love within Deacon as he looked at him. The feeling was almost overwhelmingly warm compared to the heat of the midday sun. He leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Are you ready to meet her?” Danse felt Deacon’s apprehension around him. It was warm, but there was an underlying suffocation of fear in his tone.

“Yes.” Danse heard himself say. He gave Deacon’s hand another squeeze. “I’m ready to start over.”

Deacon leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to Danse’ lips before leading him into the clinic. As they sat alone in the small waiting room of the clinic before Church and the Railroad contact arrived, Danse turned to Deacon.

“Can I give you something?”

Deacon looked over at Danse, who was clutching something in his hands.

“As long as it's not a live bomb, I’ll take anything you give me.” Deacon joked, smiling at Danse. Danse felt Deacon’s honesty and love as he spoke, and it was really the first time he wholeheartedly believed anything Deacon has said since they met through Knight Ellian. Danse tried not to think about it too much right now. Time was getting weird.

“I want you to keep this for me. Stay with me as long as you can and never let me forget you?”

Danse held a thin old world ring to Deacon. Present Danse felt Deacon’s eyes dampen at the gesture as a sob bubbled to the surface.

“Always. I’ll always watch over you.”

The surge of love and affection filled Danse almost completely through Deacon, making his heart ache for the feeling as his consciousness was pushed forwards again.

 

Danse saw himself in a familiar, cold, rusted out ship. He remembered this himself. The small junk shop around him was clustered and he looked overworked. Danse remembered being ran ragged while working there, so it wasn’t a surprise he looked dead on his feet. He felt Deacon move forwards towards the booth, looking over the pieces of scrap metal.

“Can I help you, sir?” Danse says, voice rough and tired.

“Nah, man. Just takin’ a gander while I’m in town.” Deacon’s voice was hard and distant and Danse could feel exactly how much emotional pain was just below the surface.

“Where‘re you visiting from?” Danse asked, glad to be doing something other than just standing around.

“You know, here and there.” Deacon said, giving a non-committal wave.

“Alright, I won’t pry.” Danse chuckled to himself. Danse remembered him. He remembered this moment. He remembered feeling weirdly comfortable around the complete stranger. He just gave off a comforting aura. “How long are you planning on being in town?”

A memory flashed in Deacon’s mind, seeing the Brotherhood soldiers approaching the ship.

“Not too much longer. Gotta get back to Wherever soon. I’m pretty sure Someone and Whomever are gonna miss me if I stay too long.”

Danse laughed, soft and light, making Deacon’s heart lift. “Alright man, wanna pick up something nice for Whomever?” he played along.

“Nah, only thing they like is ‘whatever' or ‘I dont know’.”

Danse laughed again, cheeks red and smile bright. “Sounds like a great family, man.”

Deacon reels a little, gripping onto the small piece of metal in his hands. “No, no, no. Ain’t got a family. They- they're my neighbors, I guess.”

Danse raises an eyebrow, smirking at Deacon’s response. “Well, I know some people who’re lookin’ to get out of here if you’re lookin’ for one.”

Deacon blushed all the way up to his ears, thinking about a small ring in his caps pouch. “I wouldn’t want to impose. Plus, gotta buy a guy dinner first, and I’m dipping out pretty quick.”

“How about tonight?” Danse asked, moving a hand to rest on Deacon’s shaking one.

“Alright. I’ll meet you there, junker boy.” Deacon said, kicking his demeanor into a smooth facade.

“It’s Danse.” He held out a newly calloused palm to Deacon.

“John.” Deacon said with a smile. “Nice to meet you Danse.”

It took Danse until then to try and place this memory in his own mind. The man he remembered as John looked nothing like Deacon did now. He had a handsome face and bright blue eyes and soft red hair in a neat style. He looked oddly clean for a trader or wanderer and he had a beautiful and familiar smile. Danse’ heart lurched when he remembered why he never got that dinner.

 

The next memory opened as Deacon blinked, showing the weathered exterior of the ship Rivet City was housed in. Deacon’s hand clutched tight to the ring in his hand as he passed the incoming Brotherhood agents heading into the ship.

They stopped him before he could pass. The synthesized voice through the mask made it easier to pretend these weren't real people. With the recent death of the Elder, management in the Brotherhood had changed for the worse.

“Excuse me sir.” One of the Paladins stopped Deacon a hand extended to stop him, the other moved to be closer to the gun.

“Yes?” Deacon asked, moving his hand to grab his sunglasses.

“We’re recruiting for the Brotherhood. Do would you rather join our ranks than live in danger?” Danse remembered the voice that spoke all too well.

“No thanks, I’m heading back west to the NCR, but I appreciate your service.” Deacon made a quick two fingered salute, placing them to his brow as his slid the sunglasses onto his face.

“Your loss.” the Paladin scoffed. Deacon nodded, brushing past them off the ship.

As Deacon walked off, Danse remembered the soldiers approaching him and conscripting him into the Brotherhood later that day. There's no way Deacon would have known what had happened when he had left, right?

 

Danse was pushed forwards again to see Deacon watching from the docks as the Paladins led away a few settlers from the ship. His careful eyes immediately picked out Danse from the group. With a sigh, he lowered the brim of a worn hat and walked behind the group, staying an acceptable following distance.

 

Danse quickly went through small meeting between him and Deacon. Glances from a bar, bumping into him while on patrol, saving him from a pack of ghouls. Simple enough stuff to forget. Danse then saw Deacon, squinting up at a vertibird in the sky as it sailed out of view.

“God damn it Danse.” He heard him say, voice tired. Deacon leaned down to pick up a large duffle bag before walking across the wasteland desert in pursuit.

It was more comforting than surprising to learn that Deacon was still around all this time, even if he did so in typical Deacon fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks  
> sent from iphone


	8. Long Road Ahead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> school and work have made this a long drawn out chapter, but is that really a bad thing?

The hiss of the machine turning off was the most jarring sound Deacon had heard in a very long time.  He took a deep breath, opening his eyes to the dimly lit room around him. He was sure it had only been a few minutes since he had entered the machine, but it felt like an eternity had passed inside Deacon’s mind. He felt so exhausted. The sound of his heart beating in his chest was almost deafening, making Doctor Amari’s voice sound muffled behind the thick  _ bu-bump _ ’s that surrounded him like a cloud. 

“Now that you’re awake Deacon, you should grab some water and stand for a while. Get the blood flowing to your legs again. Wouldn’t want you to have a heart attack, now go.” 

Deacon didn’t respond, feeling his hands against the denim of his jeans, feeling the rough texture against his palms. It was grounding, in a way, reminding him he was here, and real in this moment. Any other textures would be too much. He barely even remembered what other textures felt like at the moment.

“Deacon, come on. Up. I want you out before Danse comes to. Come on, up. I can only take care of one patient at a time and this isn’t your first race around the track, come on, up.” She rapped her knuckles against the edge of the memory lounger dome, shaking Deacon out of his transe. He looked up at her with tired, weary eyes.

“Y-yeah. I better get going.” Deacon said, stretching his stiff legs to the side. Pins and needles ran up his legs as his shoes touched the ground, making him wince. He felt so worn out. His whole body was tired and aching, but it was nothing compared to the mental exhaustion he was feeling. 

“Wait, Deacon, are you alright? I’ve only projected a few times before, so I wasn’t sure how it would feel to you to run through your memories through someone else’ mind. Please return when you’re back up to snuff so I can take records. Please.” Dr. Amari looked passively concerned, but turned to focus on Danse, still within his lounger. 

“Yeah. I’m fine.” Deacon whispered to the stairwell. Slowly dragging himself up the stairs, Deacon made his way into the main area of the Memory Den. The place was empty in the late night hours, everyone probably making their way to the Third Rail. Lucky for Deacon, that left Irma’s chaise lounge unmanned, and after stumbling a bit on the stairs up to it, he promptly passed out face down. 

 

The weird thing about reliving all of your memories in one sitting is that when past you falls asleep, you don't dream. That was how Deacon was sure he was back in his current mind, when his thoughts were no longer memory bleed or empty entirely, they were standard weird. There was a deathclaw and super mutant tea party in the desert, and, to his delight, there was no one there to talk to. Isolation in monsters was his respite from the world for just a few moments. He almost felt happy in the moment, taking a sip of what he was sure at one point was tea. He was almost happy.

 

“Get up.”

As Deacon groggily opened his eyes again, staring down at the plush red old world material, he wondered if he could escape all further questioning by running away to tame deathclaws and super mutants. He was quickly pulled from his own thoughts when a pair of heavily gloved fingers snapped in front of his eyes. Deacon turned to look at the offender, hoping it was Irma or Dr. Amari, only to find Danse, back in his armor, face angry. 

Deacon immediately kicked into fight or flight, trying to make himself seem small. He pushed the sunglasses up on his face, blocking the obvious fear hidden in them.

“Deacon, I feel as though we need to talk.” The formality of Danse’ tone made Deacon even more nervous. 

“Yeah, sure man, what’s up? What’s hanging? How’re the mutfruit in the yard? Are the brahmin getting well fed? Man, the weather sure has been weird these past few days am I right? I think a rad storm is rolling in from the west and it’s gonna be a wild one, i bet, so we better find some good cover out there in the wastes on the way back.” Deacon was slowly getting up, slinking off the chaise lounge, trying to get around it so Danse was not between him and the door. 

“Stop.” Danse said, making Deacon go rigid, freezing in place, feet planted on the ground, hands hovering just over the raised edge of the chaise lounge. “Just stop. The whole situation has been,” Danse trained his eyes on Deacon’s, trying to peer into his soul past his sunglasses. “quite enlightening.” Danse was back in his power armor, bag and gun in place. Deacon knew it would only take a moment to grab the gun and blow a laser hole right in his gut. 

Deacon felt his heart speed up its beats and jump into his throat.  _ He knows now of course he knows why would he not know. It’s obvious now he knows now how much I’ve cared about him and now he knows why and how long this is awful this is humiliating he knows too much he knows far too much about me.  _ Deacon’s brain kicked into overdrive.  _ If I need to escape, I can duck into Bobbi’s tunnels, I remember them popping out somewhere near Diamond City and I can stay there for a few days until the Bobrov’s kick me out and then heading over to Mercer shouldn’t be too long of a walk on my own and I can stay there as long as I need and Danse doesn't know about Mercer does Danse know about Mercer? He shouldn’t know about Mercer and I hope no one ever told Danse about Mercer or else I’ll have to modify- _

“It’s good to finally know you’ve always been a lying bastard, Deacon. And to think I almost learned how to trust you. Dammit Deacon, you’re better than I thought at your job-” Danse’ voice cracked, his eyes sad, carrying a sense of something deeper than anger. “-but I guess that’s why you’re the heartless molerat they send to do intel, right? What did you expect to come out of this? Was this at all what you had-” 

Deacon pushed back against the chaise lounge, vaulting over it and booking it to the doorway, his sneakers digging into the carpet as he ran. Danse turned too slow in his armor to catch him, pulling his gun out to train on Deacon’s back.  By the time Danse had made his way to the door, Deacon was gone. 

 

Part of the fucking tunnel had collapsed. Deacon was unsure if it was intentional or not, but it was sure goddamned inconvenient. It took him what felt like half the day to squeeze himself through what he had pulled away from the collapsed wall until he was actually on the other side. Too many ferals to be comfortable lied dead on the ground as he pushed through the wall, landing on his back next to one, its dead eyes looking up at him past the bullet wound that passed right through its left eye socket. 

“Yeah, there's the friendly neighborhood ferals.” Deacon remembered Whisper tossing a frag grenade behind her as they tried to control the feral population in this room. That made the collapse accidental. If he saw Whisper again in the next long while, he’d make sure to apologize. After almost tripping over the body of the bloated glowing one trying to stand up, Deacon hightailed it out of the room. 

 

By the time he reached the exit, Deacon was tired and hungry again. He sat down on one of the freight trains to crack open a can of water and some food from his pack to eat by himself for the first time in over a year. He had gotten used to silent company of eating with Hancock or MacCready, or the restless chatter from Cait or Piper, or needing to be by himself and still ending up eating next to one of the various dogs Whisper had brought in to Sanctuary. 

It was a weird sensation. He kicked his feet below him, letting them dangle over the edge of the freight car. He finally had a moment to rest and asses his feelings, and it was too much. He had wasted pretty much his entire life trying to take care of Danse just for a rejection. 

_ I deserve it _ . Deacon thought to himself.  _ Just like every other fucking thing I've messed up so far. _ Deacon put down his can of water and picked up his gun, almost pulling it to his mouth before pulling out the clip to check how many bullets he had left. Only 4. He had left the rest of his ammo with the fucking walking tank.  _ Fuck. _ At least he still had his bag of caps to buy more. He could also probably do a couple small jobs to get more if he needed extra money. 

He sighed, slinging back the rest of his water and tossing the can somewhere ahead of him before pulling out his pouch to find out exactly how much he had. He turned into the car, tipping the bag onto the wood and metal flooring. With the bag dumped out, Deacon could see his few hundred caps, and the other small trinkets he kept in the bag as well. 

A dusty black bandana curled around a handful of caps. It was the bandana Whisper had on when she first stumbled her way into the church sanctuary. He dumped out the other trinkets held inside of it. There was a carved 5mm bullet, his only gift from Glory. It shone in the rising sun, the glint catching his eyes beneath the sunglasses. There was an old world coin, on it carved many of the Switchboard team’s codenames. Shining from atop the pile was a thin old world ring. It was usually polished from constantly being taken on and off, but currently looked scuffed from being in his bag for so long.

He took the ring and let it sit on the palm of his hand. Deacon entertained the thought of chucking it off into the distance before sighing, slipping it onto his left hand’s ring finger.  It glinted softly in the morning light, making Deacon sigh. He balled up his fist, feeling it slightly dig into the meat of his hand. Taking another moment, he looked at it before sighing again. He quickly finished eating before swinging his legs back over the edge of the freight car. Once the bag of caps had been gathered and the items secured back in the bandana, Deacon set off for Diamond City. 

 

It only took him a few minutes to get to the gate, easily slipping in and making his way to the Dugout for a change of clothes. As soon as he stepped in, the brothers made a show of welcoming him but had no rooms currently available. That's what happens when your inn only has three rooms. 

Dammit. Now where was he going to spend the next few days? Deacon dejectedly made his way to the noodle bar in the center of the market to think. as soon as he sat down, an idea struck him. Home Plate. Whisper had purchased the place for when Piper needed a place to hide when she was in trouble, but still had to be close to home. 

The lock was easy enough to pick, he would bring that up to Whisper later, and the inside was dark. Deacon found himself a soft place on the couch and passed out, still exhausted from the Memory Den. 

His dreams were restless and confusing, but at least they weren't memories, so it wasn't all bad. 

As he opened his eyes, he realized he wasn’t alone. Dirt from the door that wasn't from his shoes and an empty bottle of liquor he hadn’t drunk was on the side table put him on edge. Deacon immediately reached for his gun, pulling it up to scan the empty room. His search ended at the empty suit of power armor sitting next to the set of stairs leading up to the bed Whisper uses when she’s here.

Deacon’s chest tightened and he felt fresh anger well up in his throat. The bags looked haphazardly placed near the armor, and Danse’ laser rifle rested awkwardly on the wood floor. 

_ Serves him right.  _ Deacon thought to himself. He got up slowly, making sure to to step away from the couch in case the floor creaked. With slow steps, he made his way to the armor to look up the stairs and see the intruder. Deacon felt his nails bite into his palms as he saw Danse, looking down at him from the raised platform.

He looked awful. His beard was scraggly and untamed, his hair was wild, and his eyes were bloodshot. Deacon noticed Danse kept wringing his hands together, noticing the blood on the ends of his fingers, caked and dried. 

“Hey.” Danse called down, voice as haggard as his appearance. 

“Hey.” Deacon responded. He noticed the wrapped gauze around Danse’ upper arm, watching it shift and reveal dark coloring to the cloth beneath the cleaner strips.

“I realize that the last thing you would want from me is an apology.” Danse started, looking down at his hands.

Deacon scoffed, giving Danse’ gun a kick. “You could say that, yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Danse’ sad eyes caught Deacon’s, trying to bore into his soul. 

“I was there when you found out you were a synth in the first place, did you really think it would've been a good idea to tell you at  _ any point _ that, like, Hey, Danse, by the way,  you and I were coursers together and also I’m in love with you and at one point we were engaged, but like, you’ve tried to kill me enough that I’m not sure anymore.” Deacon was out of breath, anger pouring out past his calm mask. His fists were balled in the pockets of his jeans and it took all of his strength to not kick Danse’ gun into the wall.

It took Danse a while to respond. Deacon pulled out his sunglasses and slid them over his eyes, giving the world a dark tint, making him feel more secure as the awkward feeling of what he had said rest in the air around them. 

“I’m sorry.” The words sounded hollow and sad, causing Deacon to look up at Danse again. He looked visibly distraught, hands shaking, face covered in nearly imperceptible tears. “After everything, I never meant to hurt you like this, and with the whole memory issue, it just made everything so much more confusing, and I’m sorry, Deacon.” 

Deacon held his breath as Danse walked slowly down the stairs, his hands held aloft as if to show he wasn’t carrying any weapons. By the time he reached the bottom, Danse was standing mere feet from Deacon, inching almost imperceptibly closer. 

“I will say, though. The-" Danse stops trying to gaze past Deacon’s shades into his eyes. “- memories, of you, seemed to be the happiest I was in my whole life.” 

Deacon could feel his heart hammering against his chest.  _ If this goes south, I can just kick Danse’ laser gun into the air and I bet I can get one shot off of it as a distraction before he can catch on and I can run away. The exit is just 10 feet away, then the closest surgeon is here in Diamond City I can get a complete face change in only a few hours and no one would ever have to see me again I can finally get over it I can move on and I can get in contact with another branch of the railroad-  _

“Would you be willing to give it another shot?” 

Deacon was halfway to getting his muscles to kick before he processed the words.

“Ha ha, what?” Deacon asked, feeling the blood drain from his hands. 

“I’m asking for another chance. To try and, I don’t know Deacon, make you happy, I guess.” Danse closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair. He continued speaking with his eyes closed. “I know I don’t deserve it, and you don’t have to say yes. I’m just asking for a chance." 

Deacon fought the gut reaction to run while Danse’ eyes were closed, instead taking a deep breath to press his lips against Danse’, giving into the pressure that had been living in his chest for the past year after reuniting with Danse. 

His lips were chapped and tear soaked, but felt immediately familiar. Danse didn’t react until Deacon began to pull away, wrapping his arms around Deacon’s neck and pressing his lips back onto his. He tasted the salt from Danse’ tears, felt the hum in his chest as Danse sank into the kiss, and felt the warmth of the calloused skin on Danse’ hands against his neck. 

Danse broke the kiss to press his forehead against Deacon’s shoulder. 

“You do know I’m going to kill you for running away, right?” 

“And you assume Whisper won’t kill you for letting me run away?” Deacon chuckled back, letting his arms squeeze around Danse’ frame, reveling in the warmth.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Danse laughed, pressing a kiss into Deacon’s neck.

For the first time in a long time, they finally felt alive. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is now my longest fic, which is wild  
> im happy to finally have written the end  
> heart emoji


	9. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops epilogue

“So, when so you think they’ll be done?” Ellian asked, taking a sip of her Nuka Cola.  
“Well ma’am, if no one arrives by the time Sullivan makes another round, then the best course of action would be to assume they’re done, or dead.” Codsworth noted, hovering closer to Myrna’s night guard.  
“You can go say hello, Cods. I’m gonna go see if they’re dead.”  
Ellian stood, cracking her back and giving her neck a roll. She walked to the door, placing her ear to the lock to see if she could still hear the yelling. At no sign of verbal confrontation, she slowly pushed the door open.  
The two were locked in an embrace, Danse pushed against the textured metal wall, hands twisted in Deacon’s flannel shirt.  
Ellian chucked softly before giving a low whistle to the couple.  
Danse nearly fell over, gripping onto Deacon’s shoulders as Deacon tried to push back. Danse entire face flushed, red going all the way up to his ears. Deacon quickly tried to fix his sunglasses.  
“Do you guys want to head back to Sanctuary to do this, or would you rather sully my perfectly innocent stakeout bed. Come on, guys. Let's head on home.” Ellian nodded her head toward the door, holding it open with her foot.  
Deacon swallowed and Danse nodded, quickly picking up their bags and heading out the door, both looking like kicked puppies.  
“Come on guys. Once you get home, you guys can do whatever you want in your own rooms.” Ellian looked over at Codsworth, deep in conversation with Percy, then back to the couple. “Go on ahead, I’ll be here for a while.”  
Deacon and Danse nodded, walking towards the stairs out of the stadium. As soon as they passed the doctor’s office, Deacon slipped his hand into Danse’. Danse gave the hand a squeeze, and Ellian was sure his blush got redder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you guys

**Author's Note:**

> Hmu at paraducksspace on tumblr  
> Bless the heck outta my betas http-r0x and nomadquail on tumblr  
> I love feedback and ideas! Thank you so much!!


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